When to Go, When to Stay

By J.F.O. McAllister/Washington

On a hot moonless night two weeks ago, elite U.S. Army Rangers aboard helicopters slithered down ropes onto a roof in northern Mogadishu to arrest 39 Somalis. Under intense questioning, one man in custody confessed he was General Mohammed Farrah Aidid, the warlord whose fighters have been attacking peacekeeping troops since June. But the big catch quickly turned into an embarrassing fumble. Though he bore a slight resemblance, the arrested man was not Aidid. He turned out to be a former police chief who assumed the fake identity out of fear that the soldiers would shoot him.

Like the 1982 U.S. intervention in Beirut to keep a peace that did not exist, the Somalia deployment is beginning to founder on messy local politics, which foreign commanders do not really understand and cannot put right. As the death toll of peacekeepers and civilians mounts and Mogadishu remains resolutely unpacified, American support for the mission in Somalia has plummeted. According to a TIME/CNN poll last week, only 43% of respondents approve of keeping U.S. troops there, while 46% disapprove. Eight months ago, 79% of those polled supported the deployment. The death of three more U.S. soldiers when their helicopter was shot down Saturday near Mogadishu will do nothing to improve those numbers. Washington politicians are increasingly nervous, fearing that the Clinton Administration does not have a strategy for getting out.

The growing opposition raises sharp questions about whether the U.S. military is equipped, and the U.S. public has the will, to take on the nasty work of peacekeeping. An answer is needed fast: Clinton is contemplating sending 25,000 troops to enforce an awkward Bosnian peace accord sputtering toward completion.

Murky wars like Somalia and Bosnia -- complicated local fights with a potential for international spillover -- are a growth industry now that the cold war no longer imposes a rough order on world politics. The Clinton Administration is faced with redefining when the U.S. should intervene abroad and whether it should be done alone, through the U.N. or through permanent or ad hoc alliances. Secretary of State Warren Christopher, National Security Adviser Anthony Lake and U.N. Ambassador Madeleine Albright all gave speeches last week that sketched parts of the doctrine they are constructing for how America should manage its global obligations. Clinton is to follow them this week with an address at the U.N. expected to lay out, among other things, the criteria that will govern his decisions on sending U.S. forces abroad.

His advisers reject complaints that the President has no strong views on foreign affairs and is too prone to turn over world leadership, including the command of American troops, to a flabby and uncertain U.N. They insist he is determined to lead, alone if need be, to protect American interests. But they doubt there should be any general commitment to come to the rescue of humanitarian tragedies like Somalia's or complex ethnic implosions like Yugoslavia's. Lake says the U.S. should instead adopt a strategy of "enlargement," promoting global stability by increasing the numbers, strength and cohesiveness of free-market democracies.

Albright set a high threshold for U.S. military involvement abroad. She said the U.S. should not step in unless there was a "clear mission, competent commanders, sensible rules of engagement and the means required to get the job done." If the U.N. ran the show, Washington would also demand that a cease- fire be in place and an end to the deployment identified.

These doctrines show that the Administration is anything but trigger-happy. Why, then, is Clinton marching resolutely toward the deployment of U.S. soldiers to help NATO police Bosnia? The President promised the forces once the warring parties all agree on a settlement. The one now about to be signed will dismember the country into Serb, Croat and Muslim zones and allow the Serb and Croat regions to secede in two years. Senior U.S. officials say enforcement should not be too bloody because all three sides will gain from peace. But reluctant units must be disarmed, thousands of refugees relocated and safe passage corridors patrolled in a land where bitter hatred and the thirst for revenge still prevail.

So far Clinton has avoided investing American revenue and lives in Bosnia, while maintaining that he personally would like to do more to help its government resist aggression. The Administration says it still must see the fine print of the accord before it actually mobilizes troops. And Clinton has pledged to seek congressional approval for a Bosnia deployment -- a potential escape hatch if the mission looks too burdensome.

Late last week top aides went to Capitol Hill to begin explaining the difficult options the U.S. may soon face. General John Shalikashvili, the next Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, acknowledged that the Bosnian operation could cost the U.N. $4 billion its first year. Lawmakers, led by influential Senator Sam Nunn, expressed deep anxiety that the Administration had no exit strategy. "My big question will be not how do we go about it," Nunn told the New York Times, "but how do we get out if the parties begin fighting again?"

It is hard to see how Clinton, with his heavy domestic agenda, could gain politically from putting more American troops in harm's way. Unfortunately, Washington has promised to guarantee a Bosnia settlement so long and loudly that a reversal, even if Congress provides welcome cover, will make Clinton look feckless. Says a senior Pentagon official: "If the U.S. can't take part in this operation, it will be a major blow to the structure of NATO," -- as well as a final abandonment of Bosnian civilians to bloodthirsty aggressors.

Somalia was supposed to prove that intervention could be simple. A year ago, as many as 1,000 Somalis a day were dying of starvation while feuding warlords stole relief supplies. Operation Restore Hope quickly restored the flow of foodstuffs and choked off most banditry. Starvation has all but ended. Refugees are returning. In most of the country, order now prevails. Washington has reduced its contingent from 28,000 to 4,800 soldiers. Says retired U.S. Admiral Jonathan Howe, the U.N.'s special representative in Somalia: "A lot more work needs to be done. But the story of Somalia is a good story."

In south Mogadishu, where Aidid is still defiant, the story is anything but good. Constantly on the move, always surrounded by women and children, Aidid has managed to elude arrest and assassination despite the arrival last August of 400 U.S. Rangers ordered to find him. His gunmen are marauding through the city, and U.N. forces, led by the U.S., have responded with a heavy hand. Earlier this month, more than 100 Somalis were killed and wounded when U.S. helicopters fired into a crowd that had ambushed a passing U.N. convoy. Last week the Rangers had a small success when they captured Aidid's major banker, but the man was not in hiding.

Fifty-two foreign soldiers have died since Aidid started targeting them in June. U.S. officials admit his forces have the capacity to conduct hit-and-run attacks indefinitely. U.N. positions take mortar fire most nights as Aidid tries to wear down the staying power of the 30 countries contributing troops. His subordinates vow to fight on even if he is captured.

Some in Congress want the U.S. to pull out all its remaining troops immediately, leaving the work of nation building to other U.N. members. The TIME/CNN poll shows that only 22% of the public think the U.S. should engage in disarming the warlords. But Clinton advisers fear the whole U.N. mission would collapse if the U.S. military backbone were withdrawn, returning Somalia to anarchy and famine. "Our sense is to keep picking away one lieutenant here, one bunch of militiamen there," says a Clinton official. "If we keep up the pressure, we'll eventually get there."

The Administration hopes its blizzard of foreign-policy speeches will help direct public attention away from the bloodshed in Somalia and Bosnia toward its accomplishments in other regions -- propping up Boris Yeltsin, for example. Top officials worry, as Lake says, that "we have come into the new era with relatively few ways to convince a skeptical public that engagement abroad is a worthwhile investment." But there is no sidestepping the hard cases. If Washington is to remain a superpower, the public will have to bear not only comparatively light burdens like democratic "enlargement" but onerous ones like Somalia and Bosnia as well.

With reporting by James L. Graff/Vienna, Andrew Purvis/Nairobi and Bruce van Voorst/Washington